Goodbye
by latefortea
Summary: A scene at Raoul's funeral.


I was influenced by a painting by askthephantom ( post/38017801409/holy-cannoli-first-of-all-id-like -to) on tumblr, and the song 'Nuvole Bianche" by Ludovico Einaudi.

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The former Ms. Cecile Chagny was pure light. She had her father's golden hair with her mother's curls. But more than that, she possessed her father's goodness and her mother's bravery. Cecile wore a white dress, illuminating her skin even in winter. Her mother wore deep purple that appeared black. Cecile took comfort in the soft fabric of her mother's dress as she embraced her.

The gravesite was at the very edge of a forest. She held her mother's hand as they watched her father's coffin descend into the ground. As the coffin disappeared out of sight, Christine let go of Cecile's hand and walked forward. Her daughter held her back. Christine had not yet shed one tear.

The service ended. Cecile embraced her mother tightly. Behind her, Cecile's husband waited.

"Be safe getting home, dear. You have a long journey ahead of you."

"Are you sure you're going to be all right, Mama?"

"I will make it through. Be sure to write."

At this, Cecile nodded and kissed her mother's cheek. Slowly and very reluctantly, she left her mother's embrace and headed toward her husband, who held out his coat to put over her shoulders. She looked up and noticed that it had started to snow.

She refused to look back at her mother; if she did she would break down again.

Christine stood before her husband's grave. Behind her, her daughter's carriage drove away. The sun was setting. Her face . . . her face to an eye ignorant of her story would look blank, as if she had no real feelings toward sadness or happiness. But to someone who knew her story, to someone who knew how the little orphan Christine Daae made it to this exact moment, her face was understood. Fifty-seven years of life made Christine feel everything. Her hair lost its bold brownness and her skin lost its glow. Wrinkles decorated the places where her emotions altered her face, turning her into someone else. Her face had twisted in anger, in confusion, in pain, in sadness, and in happiness. One could argue that she had nothing left to feel.

Suddenly, a wave crashed. It reminded Christine of the little cottage by the sea.

Another wave crashed and Christine realized that all of her friends were dead. She lost Meg. She lost Madame Giry. And now, Raoul was gone, too.

She approached his gravestone, taking her time because she did not want it to be true. She lifted her right hand to one side of the grave and used it for support. She got on her knees in front of the stone.

A wave crashed. Darkness fell.

Christine placed both hands on the new, smooth stone. Her body heaved as she began to weep. Her weeping grew to sobbing, and her sobbing to yelling. Christine remained where she was, kneeling and weeping for her friends who were no longer with her. The question that festered and twisted her heart and mind was, "Why?"

"Why have you left me here alone? Why have you all gone?"

Her throat hurt from her sobs. She whispered:

"Why am I the only one left?"

She allowed her head to drop. She held it in her hands as she rocked back and forth.

A wave crashed.

It was pitch black.

Snow fell.

Behind her rose a cloaked figure. She heard footsteps in the snow.

Christine froze. She knew. A lifetime could have passed, and she would have known still. His presence heightened her senses and her entire body tingled. She rose slowly to turn around.

She kept her hands behind her as she stood. She backed up and placed her palms on the gravestone. She looked up to see him standing there. It was as if he had been waiting.

He held a gloved hand out to her. She turned around again. She kneeled down and as she stroked the stone, she leaned forward slowly, shaking, and gently kissed the stone.

"G-goodbye, my love," she whispered.

She turned around again and the man had not moved. She rose to her feet, brushed the snow off of her dress, and finally, took his hand. Their eyes locked.

He led her home.


End file.
